


Soft Apocalypse

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Typical Weirdness, Character Study, F/F, Mutual Pining, Other, POV Multiple, Post-Apocalypse, light body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: The Archivist ushers in the end of the world.It's really not that big of a deal.





	Soft Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> if i don't shoehorn jon/distortion into everything i write then am i really living
> 
> not beta'd

Elias' staring up at him, enraptured.  
  
The office is silent and dark for the most part, the entire building is, and while the rest of the world rocks with the change, he's left to stare up in wonderment. Their god fed. Finally.  
  
“Watcher's Crown. Bit literal isn't it?” Jon sounds irritated, and Elias can only smile. “I mean honestly.” The eyes blink in unison, and when Elias shutters out a gasp, they all snap to him.  
  
“Archivist,” Elias says like a prayer and Jon's real- Jon's human eyes roll.  
  
“Christ, Elias. Get up.” He didn't even realize he was on his knees.  
  
New world order.  
  
New world order and all theirs.  
  
And Jon is resplendent in all of the thousands of eyes on his body.  
  
Most of them cluster around old wounds the others gave him, a smattering of them on his chest over his lungs, on his throat, on his arms, the rest sit along his head. All different- the ones on his head- he recognizes some of them. Gertrude's cold gaze, in particular, looks exceptionally unamused. The rest must be from older Archivists.  
  
The ones on his neck look something like Alice Tonner's, and the ones on his wrist look something like Michael Shelley's. Jane Prentiss' dull grey and Mike Crew's bright blue and Jude Perry's deep brown all stare back at him too.  
  
Watcher's Crown.  
  
Fitting, he thinks.  
  
Jon just looks horrifically unamused by all of it.

  
…

  
  
“Jon?”  
  
Martin tries his very level best to not look horrified when hundreds and hundreds of eyes snap up to look at him. Visible through the thin clothing Jon has taken to wearing now- apparently, obstruction gives him a migraine.  
  
Martin would be happier about seeing his boss in a tank top in any other context.  
  
Jon himself doesn't respond though like he hasn't heard him or something.  
  
“Uh-” He clears his throat. “Archivist?”  
  
Martin's heart hurts when Jon's actual eyes look up from whatever he's reading.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“There are some uh- I don't know- statement givers? I think?”  
  
“Oh.” Jon looks back down. “Sure send them in.”  
  
“With you- With you looking- uh- there are- there are a lot? Of them?”  
  
“I would assume there would be considering the world ended, yes Martin.”  
  
“R-Right. Yeah. I'll just- send the first one in then.”  
  
“Thank you.”

  
…

  
  
“Archivist.” Distortion's odd form hovers in its doorway- no visage of Helen that it can hide behind anymore.  
  
“What should I call you then? If you don't look like her anymore.”  
  
“I still do. Just not to you.” The Archivist's form is many fold now too, though it's sure no one else can see him in all his splendor. “I wanted to thank you. For bringing us through.”  
  
“Consider it an apology.” He says, looking back down at his papers. The eyes of the world keep staring back at it though, and it can feel some flash of confusion deep inside at Michael's and Gertrude's eyes peering back at it with a sort of loathing and interest combined.  
  
“Usually Beholding wouldn't have.” It says large fingers splayed out on the door frame, patterns of fractals dancing up the wood.  
  
“I know.” He looks up at it again. “The Eye didn't like it.”  
  
“And you did it anyway. Bit much for an apology.”  
  
“I would be dead without you. They can pretend it was their brilliant intervention, but it was never them.” His voice is soft. It doesn't reach his eyes.  
  
“Ah.” It says. It smiles. It doesn't have a mouth with which to do this, and maybe that's why the Archivist looks away.  
  
“I have work to do. I assume you do too.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Of course.”

  
…

  
  
Despite her boss being a nightmare to look at, Jon's actually pretty decent now.  
  
Not nearly as shrill anyway.  
  
Melanie brings him coffee she knows he won't drink and he thanks her and all of his eyes blink in unison, slowly, like a cat, and she supposes that's as close to a genuine compliment as she'll get.  
  
“I'm heading home, alright?”  
  
“Don't talk to strangers.”  
  
It's a funny joke.  
  
She doesn't laugh.  
  
The line for the Institute wraps around the building twice before dragging down a central street. Everyone wants to meet the Archivist, talk to the Archivist, tell the Archivist all of their little secrets because they think it'll keep them safe from everything else running around.  
  
There isn't a lot running around actually, just the Slaughter, for her, and the Hunt for the cop she hasn't seen in a while. If anything else snuck through, she wasn't told about it.  
  
There are things walking up and down the streets staring at everything and Melanie hates them but shes so drenched in it they leave her alone for the most part.  
  
At least six cameras every three feet.    
  
People disappear sometimes like it's no big deal.  
  
For people like them, though, they're still pretty okay.  
  
There's a bar a band she's rather fond of is playing.  
  
She doesn't want to be late.

  
…

  
  
“I Can't Believe you actually won.”  
  
Jude catches him outside the Archives for the first time in maybe months.  
  
“Neither can I.” He says like he's bored of the entire thing. He holds a cigarette to his lips and desperately tries to light it before the clicking annoys her, and she lights it for him with her fingers.  
  
“I really thought you were going to kick it beforehand.”  
  
“So did I.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“What?” He takes a long drag and closes the eyes in his head. The others keep staring. Her own eyes stare back at her, so many of them warped with the heat of her burn.  
  
“God-king among man, bringer of the end times, and you're still as much of a loser as you were when you didn't know shit.”  
  
He just shrugs at that.  
  
“I can't believe I was worried.”  
  
He blinks, and it's almost a full body experience.  
  
“You were worried?”  
  
“Uh- look at your arm, you moron. Of course, I was worried.”  
  
“Oh.” He looks down like he forgot about the 3rd-degree burn she gave him.  
  
“God.”  
  
It could be worse, she guess.  
  
He could have been Flesh aligned.

  
…

  
  
Basira stretches, and when she looks at the clock on the wall, it's past midnight.  
  
Whoops.  
  
She makes to leave for the library, she can barely open the door with all of the people mulling in the hallway. They don't even really react to her. Everyone is here for Jon.  
  
She squeezes past them and rides the staff elevator down to the Archives, and after muscling through more people, she manages to get into his office.  
  
“Hey.” Jon looks up, all of him looks up like he forgot where he was for a second. “Bedtime.”  
  
“Basira-”  
  
“It's been a week, and you know what Elias said. For the first three months at least you need to get a few hours every week. Don't want to die and make us start the process all over again, right?”  
  
“That would be such an inconvenience for you, wouldn't it?” She ignores the irritation.  
  
“The sooner I make sure you're asleep the sooner I can leave, come on.” There's a cot in his office, and it looks horrifically uncomfortable, but that's the choice he's made.  
  
“Daisy's waiting for you.”  
  
“She can wait a few more minutes.”

  
…

  
  
The Archivist wakes up to total silence.  
  
Total silence and Elias Bouchard staring at him from his desk.  
  
“What?” He asks.  
  
“Good morning to you too, Archivist.”  
  
The Archivist sits up, rubbing his face and frowning.  
  
“Do you want something?” There's an edge to his voice, compulsion the barest of effort now, that makes Elias sigh.  
  
“You.”  
  
Jon scrunches his face and stands to get dressed.  
  
“What do you want right now from me in this moment?”  
  
“Peter Lukas wants a conversation,” Elias says, a little flushed. “About letting the Lonely in.”  
  
“Peter Lukas can talk to you. And you can tell him what I told you. I'm not interested.”  
  
“Archivist-”  
  
“Watcher.” He says, and it's so easy to be intimidating when you literally ended the world. “I'm. Not. Interested.” Elias turns a degree redder and nods, looking away. “If he comes by again, send Daisy after him. End of conversation.”  
  
“End of conversation.”

  
…

  
  
The Archivist watches Martin go down the massive line and offer people tea. Only a few of them are coherent enough to answer, and when Martin finally get into his office, the Archivist tells him to sit down and relax.  
  
Martin does.  
  
“Have you been okay?”  
  
“It's- Yeah. It's just a lot of busy work.” Martin doesn't look at him much anymore, and that's okay. The Archivist isn't surprised.  
  
“It could be worse.”  
  
“I know- I know that. It's- I'm fine.”  
  
“Good. Good.” He says and shuffles some papers.  
  
“Do they hurt?” Martin asks. “When you touch stuff, I mean.”  
  
“Oh they're not- They don't- they're not all real eyes.”  
  
“Just some of them.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Can you see out of all of them?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Huh. You're okay though right?”  
  
“As okay as I can be, considering.”  
  
“Yeah.”

  
…

  
The Archivist Watches Distortion usher people into its door by the thousands, and he can't help but get distracted from the more important present work. There's something beautiful about its work that the Archivist just can't ignore.  
  
It visits from time to time, and the Archivist allows himself to relax, focus on something other then the work, even if the Beholding is angry with him.  
  
What's it going to do, he ended the world for it.  
  
“Do you have to stare all the time?”  
  
“Not all the time.” The Archivist assures. Just sometimes a lot.  
  
“It's very distracting.”  
  
“You're very distracting too you know.”  
  
Distortion smiles with no mouth and the migraine he gets is worth watching it.  
  
“Archivist?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Would you ever want to leave?”  
  
He hasn't really put much thought into it until this moment. Maybe that was stupid of him.  
  
“I wasn't aware that was something I could.”  
  
“Not through traditional means, but.” And they both turn their heads to look at the doorway.  
  
“I'll think about it.”  
  
“It's the least I could do.”

  
…

  
He hasn't seen Melanie in a while, and that's probably for the best.  
  
He's sure she's happy somewhere, wherever. Actually, he's sure she's happy. She isn't here. Some people are easy to please, and that's okay.  
  
He wonders what she spends her time doing.  
  
He could Watch for her, but he's pretty she'll come back to the Archives and throttle him for spying.  
  
She's be in the right, of course.

  
…

  
“Hey.” She holds her hand out to light his cigarette, and he doesn't bother to reach for his lighter.  
  
“Do you just live out here now?”  
  
“Maybe.” Jude's smug just like she always is. “You know if you don't like it you can sick your dog on us right?”  
  
“Us?” He asks and Looks just as a look of legitimate worry crosses Jude's face. The cult isn't far from the Institute. The Archivist isn't surprised. “You know, I don't really care what you do. As long as it's not setting my building on fire.”  
  
“God.” She sighs. “You're really fucking lame you know that.”  
  
“Some people keep telling me that, yeah.”  
  
“So.” She waves her hand. Going for nonchalant, maybe. “You let the Spiral through.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“But not us.”  
  
“Ah-”  
  
“Yeah, see, cause that's antithetical to your business just like we are.”  
  
“It's not like I wiped you out.” He says and takes a long drag.  
  
“I know. Just- personal curiosity.”  
  
“I owed it.”  
  
“...Really?”  
  
“I owed it a lot.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
She doesn't believe him.

  
...

  
“I'm already in bed. Leave me alone.”  
  
“Whatever you say, Archivist.”  
  
He feels like he should apologize to Basira because she really is taking all of this in stride- he will, tomorrow. Now, he can lay on his back and close his human eyes and Watch Basira ride the elevator up and outside to where Daisy's leaning on the back of her car.  
  
“Missed you.” She says, fingers lacing together.  
  
“Missed you too.”  
  
The Archivist at least has the common decency to look away while they're kissing.  
  
“Come on, I get you all night.”  
  
“Yeah, you do.”  
  
They seem happy, honestly and earnestly happy.  
  
All things considered, he thinks they got off the best.  
  
He's happy for them.  
  
At the very least, Daisy's shitty music is easy to fall asleep to.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> talk[ to me here](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)


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